


Homecoming

by Palebluedot



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Bittersweet, Canon Compliant, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, London, M/M, but like. weaponized fluff, for approximately 0.2 seconds, parting is such sweet sorrow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 06:36:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11053365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Palebluedot/pseuds/Palebluedot
Summary: That smile grows, and Thomas shall never find the strength to disentangle himself now, so he holds on all the tighter – three months, threemonthsstranded with only the memory of James's face, God only knows how he survived. But no matter. Now that he's home, Thomas intends nothing less than to reclaim each and every intimacy the sea stole from them.





	Homecoming

In the mirror above the wardrobe, James is still smiling. Just a little glow, barely there, but that slight curve to his lips is hook enough to draw Thomas up behind him, compel him to wrap his arms about James's waist and bury his nose in the crook of his neck, breathe deep. That smile grows, and Thomas shall never find the strength to disentangle himself now, so he holds on all the tighter – three months, three _months_ stranded with only the memory of James's face, God only knows how he survived. But no matter. Now that he's home, Thomas intends nothing less than to reclaim each and every intimacy the sea stole from them.

To this end, he sweeps aside James's unbound hair, pushes down his collar, and mouths at the marks he couldn't help but kiss into James's throat the first moment they were alone. James's sigh as he'd wound his fingers through Thomas's hair and the muffled moan that escaped him when his back hit the bookshelf in the study had been the first sounds Thomas could call musical in what felt like a lifetime – and they'd only just begun to say hello. “I missed you, too,” says James, fond, and the laughter in his voice flutters against Thomas's lips.

One more kiss to James's neck, then Thomas turns his attention to the soft skin behind his ear, nuzzling there lightly as he murmurs, “Am I so transparent?”

James meets his eye in the mirror, pointedly quirks an eyebrow. “Subtlety, my lord, has never been your forte,” he observes, and Thomas huffs a laugh. The  _my lord_ was no doubt included to bait him, but he does not mind. Somehow, James has made that ridiculous formality into a term of endearment – and isn't that marvelous?

“Then allow me to be thoroughly unsubtle.” With one bent finger pressed to his chin, Thomas tilts James's head over his shoulder, noses forwards and kisses him, and James falls into it at once, turning in his arms, his lips pushing lazy, slow and content, like they've all the time in the world. His whiskers scratch against Thomas's cheek as he inches nearer, and Thomas delights in the newness of the sensation. When at last he pulls away, Thomas keeps his fingertips stroking through James's beard, transfixed by the smooth, sea glass calm that passes through James's eyes. “I must say,” he admits, “there may be one bearable aspect of our separation. It was quite a welcome surprise to turn around and find you bearded.”

James turns his head to kiss Thomas's palm, takes his hand in his own. “So if I should shave, my return would be less welcome to you?” he asks, eyes gleaming.

“Mm, well, I won't deny I'd grieve,” Thomas replies, mock-thoughtful, “but I'd love you anyway.”

That earns him a grin from James, who's begun rubbing the pad of his thumb over Thomas's knuckles, rhythmic, gentle bliss. “I'll wear it a while longer, then, for your sake. I shouldn't like to see you in mourning.”

“Oh, I wouldn't worry. With you at my side, I doubt I could mourn anything for long.” Thomas plants a kiss to James's temple, and James drapes his arms over Thomas's shoulders, rests their foreheads together, and Thomas closes his eyes for their closeness. For all the peace in his heart, the summer breeze singing through his soul, he feels a quiet pang of leftover loneliness. Oh, how he _missed_ this.

There in the stillness they stand, until James shifts in Thomas's arms. He cups Thomas's cheek in his hand, and when Thomas opens his eyes, he can read the goodbye written in the bitter twist to James's mouth. “I'm afraid I really must be leaving soon. Without Admiral Hennessey's support, I doubt we'll get another chance to make our case, and time is running short.”

“Of course,” Thomas sighs. Whatever sorrow he feels at another parting, however brief, he lets sink to the depths of this vast sea they will soon will into existence. This is, after all, only the beginning. “Let's get you presentable then, shall we?”

Thomas loosens his hold on James and James steps free, turning back to the wardrobe. He reaches for his hair tie, but in a moment of fancy, Thomas intercepts him, stealing it away before his fingers can close. James is gracious in defeat, waiting patiently as Thomas indulges himself by combing his fingers through James's hair before he gathers it up and ties the bow. Then there is nothing left for James to do but leave. Thomas follows as far as he can.

When they reach the door, James meets his eye and lingers there, and there they stand on a precipice, and Thomas's stomach swoops in anticipation of the plunging fall, the cool embrace of the water below, James's hand clasped tight in his own the whole long way down. They have labored so, so hard to reach this far. If anyone can push them over the edge at last, it's James. He knows it. His very blood alights with the certainty of it, not so different from the iron surety that overcame his pounding heart moments before he first kissed James in the candlelight, so long ago. For courage, or to celebrate, or just because he can, Thomas takes James's hand and bends to kiss it, first his knuckles, then the flat of his fingers. “Good luck,” he whispers when he again stands straight. “I love you,” he adds when James smiles.

“I do not think,” says James, quiet, eyes shining, “that I shall ever tire of hearing that.”

Thomas cannot help himself – he pulls James a few steps closer by their joined hands. “We can put it to the test when next I see you,” he promises. The tips of their noses brush. “I certainly won't tire of saying it.”

“I do love you,” James sighs, and pulls Thomas down just far enough for their lips to graze. “I'll return as soon as I am able. If at all possible, I'll come bearing good news.”

“I'll count the hours,” Thomas murmurs, and he presses his smiling mouth to James's own, once, again, then some surging force overtakes them both and their kisses flow rapidly, as eager and giddy as those of lovers newly wed – perhaps in another life, Thomas thinks as he wills himself at last to step away. “Go, you'll be late.”

A little flushed, a little breathless, James grins as he squeezes Thomas's hand, lets it go. His fingers curl instead around the door handle. Still warm from James's touch, Thomas watches the door open, then close, and then his sailor is gone.

**Author's Note:**

> I age a few years every time I remember that they didn't get a chance to say goodbye. This is me both exploiting and attempting to ease that particular tragedy. 
> 
> Crossposted to [tumblr.](https://brightbluedot.tumblr.com/post/161275685474/homecoming/) Hmu to yell about these two being all over each other until they were forced (temporarily) to stop.
> 
> Comments are love!


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